When a Nazi is Reincarnated
by blackpoppyseed
Summary: Maksim Salvation didn't want to believe his soul had been detached from hell and he certainly didn't want to believe he had been put on Earth to make up for his past as a Nazi. Now he appears in a city in 2015, living off what he can scavenge while he constantly finds himself running from the law and the truth behind his second life.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

An alarm went off. Metal doors slammed behind a young man who thought his name was Maksim. And he had five minutes to find something, anything worth for the taking.

The hallways were dark, but to him they weren't dark enough. His deep eyes were used to searching in lightless places. His ears where used to the repetitive, ear piercing alarms and his heart was as used to the pounding as his hands were to sweaty palms.

Life felt like nothing more than a game. It didn't have a meaning. Maksim didn't know who he was or where. He had nothing; He only knew what he had to do to survive.

Sirens sounded from streets away. Four minutes remained as clocks on the walls ticked.

Maksim grabbed whatever food lied on the shelves and shoved them into his bag. The siren grew louder. Heavy footsteps raced through the halls from where he had come from.

Two police scurried to the front of the doors. Any minute now and they'd burst in.

When they did, Maksim was nowhere in a wondering eyes sight.

"He's at it again," the head police mumbled.

Their flashlights wouldn't help them now.

Dawn approached when Maksim found himself farther away, sitting by a dumpster in an alley way. His shaky hands were picking at the things he had stolen. They wouldn't last him forever, but they'd be enough for now.

He sat alone with a familiar city stray he named Oscar. He considered this broad, yellow eyed tabby cat his friend because he never had anything bad to say to him. Oscar would meow for food once in a while, or keep him a little warmer on cold nights.

Maksim pet Oscar as his clear blue eyes darted around the brick walls surrounding him. He hated the thought he still had no idea where he was. He was homeless, he was alone, and he knew that. Yet he was free and in a way trapped all at the same time.

Maksim shamefully came to realize he wasn't anything like the people around him. The feverishly people who darted from place to place carrying money and things he could never have. Everyone he saw had a destination. They had somewhere to be in a certain time at a certain place. Whether it was school, work, kids to tend to, something.

Maksim once had a destination but right now he couldn't remember where. He certainly couldn't remember why.

His lanky legs strolled around the city that day, observing things, searching for answers. He wanted to know what it meant to be here of all places. He wanted to know exactly what this world was made of.

_My past, where is it? _Why is everything so unfamiliar to him? Something solid, almost unmovable stood in the way of blocking all his memories and everything he ever knew.

From time to time he'd see newspapers flying around. A couple of times he'd pick them up, trying to read whatever were printed on the front cover.

Mysterious disappearing thief on the loose said the words he could barely read.

Dark clouds started to form in the sky so rapidly. People would start to vanish as they got to their homes or into buildings to hide from the skies tears. Maksim had an alley way he usually kept sheltered in.

He started to feel heavy as he walked through the crowds to his usual spot. The clouds above him made such a dense pressure on his shoulders. His head started to pound and legs became wobbly. Colors and edges started to clash with one another as nothing anymore was making sense.

That's when he noticed someone was following him, but whenever he turned he could only see a shadow. As soon as he got to his alley way, this shadow that followed him, about as broad and as tall, caught up.

"I keep seein' you kid, what you up too?" the shadow sneered. He slammed Maksim into a wall in the dark alley way.

Maksim didn't fight back. He remained frozen, trying to see the man's face.

The man grabbed Maksim's bag away.

"I'll be taking this," he snarled.

Maksim moved not even an inch when the man threw a punch at him. With every blow to the head, Maksim started to see again. He started to remember, so he couldn't fight back. He didn't want too. He simply wanted to see.

"Damn kid!" the man shouted to him in slurs.

A high pitched ringing sounded, and suddenly Maksim once again was not on earth.

Maksim opened his eyes. Through them he saw nothing but grey. Ashes were falling to an everlasting cold, stale ground he stood on.

The sweetest voice whispered to him, paining him.

A cold hand with the weight of a feather gently touched his hard shoulder. With that he couldn't speak.

And then the graceful smoke that made the ashes appeared, and the fuzzy edges of a dark building in dense fog away from him.

Maksim's face grew hard and stiff as he stared into its never ending nothing.

"Remember your promise?" the tender voice asked, and with that everything turned black.

Next thing he knew, he could feel again. His back was lying on the cement ground in the alley way.

_Damn it. _

A woman shrieked as heavy rain fallen over Maksim's mangled body. Through her ingenuous eyes she must have thought he was dead.

Amongst the falling rain sirens sounded again, but not the ones he was used too. The rain and sirens muffled together until he couldn't hear a thing again.

He awoke on a bed with white sheets in a large room. His body was so sore he felt like he could barely move.

"You been asleep for a long time," a scratchy voice said.

Maksim turned his head to a dark older man, sitting on another bed a ways away from him.

"What is this place?" Maksim moaned.

"The shelter," the man huffed. He practically was wearing rags. "Unless you have a home."

"No," Maksim replied hazily as he looked out the window.

"You look too young to be here," the old man noticed. "Don't you have a family somewhere?"

Suddenly there came knocking at the door. Maksim looked up. It was the head police officer. The one he'd been running from since he appeared here.

The police came striding in his sharp uniform. "I see you've awoken," he said rather softly in spite of his sharp face.

"Yeah," Maksim nodded his head.

"Can you tell me a few things?" the police asked, now standing across from Maksim holding a pen and paper. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at him.

"I'll tell you what I know," Maksim replied solemnly.

"Can you give me your name?" the police asked.

"Maksim," he replied after hesitating.

"Last name?"

Maksim's eyes darted around, looking for something he could use as a last name.

"Salvation," Maksim said as his eyes rested on a Salvation Army poster on the grimy walls.

"Phone number, home adress," the police went on.

"I don't have one," Maksim sighed.

"Birthday?"

Maksim shrugged his shoulders.

"I'll look up your records Mr…Salvation?" the police sighed, looking suspiciously at the poster. "Looks like you're pretty out of it."

Maksim rested his head back on his pillow. He looked a little harder at the policeman before he walked out the room.

"You hungry?" the homeless man asked, stretching out his arms. "Plenty of beans here, and soups. Showers are sometimes an option. I bet you need one. Looks like you've been through hell and back."

Maksim closed his eyes. "I've been to hell," he said softly.

"Hell, I'm still there," the man chuckled.

Maksim opened his eyes again. He looked to the man, watching him intently as if gaping into his soul.

"You can judge me," the man mumbled. "I've made the wrong choices, suppose that's how I've ended up here. "As long as I ain't in prison."

Maksim looked away from him. He closed his eyes again.

"I'll let you sleep" the man said. "But I want to know how you got here when you wake up."


	2. Chapter 2

Maxsim awoke the next morning feeling irritated and sickly. Nothing felt right. Not sleeping, speaking, walking and even breathing as he wasn't used to it anymore.

So many dreams manifested in his mind that night, but all he could truly remember was the color red. The hue was so bold and bright as he slept. The color remained so powerful.

"As I used to be..." Maksim whispered alone in the room. The gloomy walls had him wanting to do nothing other than leave.

He rose from the bed when the world had hit him like a ton of bricks. Thousands of them came falling from a never ending wall! Memories came crashing down along with them.

His hands tightened as he cringed. He pursed his full, straight lips as tight as he could so he wouldn't yell as so many visions of the memories began. Visions of buildings came to him in so many places, with many things, so many words in languages he also knew.

Then there came faces. Flashes of so dozens at a time. They wouldn't stop until there came one in particular of a girl. Her body was terribly thin. Her dark eyes were dead.

"No," he sighed, covering his face that had now completely lost it's glow.

His shaky hands slowly slid up through his golden hair. His clear eyes stared intently out the window where rain poured from the dark skies.

He threw on his worn boots and jacket. Then he left the facility without a soul noticing. He began into the rain.

Thunder roared. Strikes of lightning flashed in the sky. The heavy clouds remained too dark for this time of day, if it was day at all. He had no idea the time, the month or even the year.

This city remained empty during a strom so brutal as this. Very few people, in fact almost no one was outside but Maksim.

The cold rain soaked into his clothes and to his skin. Drops of rain fell from his hair. His shoes where drenched as he truged threw the puddles where he would notice his face for the first time.

The reflection that stared back at him now was just as he always remembered it to be; handsome and strong. A face he had always admired. Maybe he had been told he was so physically perfect for so many years he couldn't dare think otherwise.

Even his cold eyes had never changed. In fact, they were colder now and twice as intimidating.

He looked up from the puddle to see a girl.

She was tall and thin. Long, dark hair flowed down from her hooded face.

In an instant he was drawn to her.

She continued to amble towards to him. The rain was still pouring, yet she walked so contently as if the sun where out. He admired that.

He could feel her eyes almost touching him, looking into his soul. The closer she came the more familar she appeared in his mind.

_I've met you before_, he said to himself as his eyes searched for hers.

He could now see those pout lips visable beneath the shadow under her hood.

_It couldn't be_, he thought as he at last saw a glimpse of eyes, eyes he swore he had last seen lifeless.

"You look alone," she finally said against the pouring rain.

Maksim stood, staring, lost for words.

"Follow me," she said.

He could tell in the tint sound of her voice she was intimidated. It took everything she had to speak a word to him.

_No thanks, I better be on my way to nowhere,_ he thought of saying.

"I think I know you," he blurted as he reluctantly follwed.

With all the rain she didn't hear him.

He bit his lip.

He followed her not to much further away to a small apartment building. She took out her keys and opened the door, offering him inside.

He entered into the dark home which smelled like fadded damp wood. Although you could still hear rain from the rooftops, it was quiet enough to hear their breaths in the stale air.

"I think I know you," she said, soft as a whisper.

She pulled off her hood. It was still too dark to fully make out her face.

"I must look familar," Maksim said. "Because you don't know me."

"No," she corrected him. "I do know you. I can feel it when I know someone."

Maksim stood very still while the air grew tense. His throat tightened.

"I've been watching you for the past few days," she admitted. "I'm not usually shy. I wanted to say something, but I couldn't. Then I lost you, and I promised myself if I ever caught you walking around again I'd say something."

"Why?" he asked.

"You're so strikingly familar it made me sick," she said, taking off her wet coat. "I don't know many people here. I'm not from here. The chances of seeing someone I've met before are close to none. Why do you look so familar?"

Maksim watched her as she turned on a small light. The room, rather empty brightened. It was all white walls and hardwood floors. There wasn't much decoration or furnature, or anything showing who she was.

_ I can't remember my name, so I call myself Maksim. I'm not sure why, but I'm sure there's a reason. I was born in the early 1900's. I became a man through becoming a Nazi. I killed many, many people in ways I do not wish to speak of. I died young, yet here I am, risin from hell and I'm trying to remember why but it's been taking me much too long. I don't belong here that's all I know for certain. My soul belongs in a hell, if you will. _

"My name is Maksim Salvation," he said.

What a strange name, she thought.

"My name is Natalya Lev," she replied.

Her face was finally turned towards him. He could finally see her eyes, a dark grey, and pale face. Suddenly she no longer looked as familar as how he once perceived her.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"I was adopted, so I'm not sure where I come from," she replied. "I've always had the name Natalya Lev, so I must be of Eastern Europe decent."

"You look it," he replied.

"You look like a Nazi," she blurted.

A steady silence came between them.

"What year is it?" he asked.

"2015," she replied.

Maksim sighed.

"I'm sorry," she replied meekly. "It makes no sense you give me that impression, but you do."

"Come sit," she said, going into the living room. "I don't mind you being wet."

"I can't stay long," Maksim said as he strolled over to the small couch.

"Where else do you have to go?" she asked.

Maksim glanced up at her.

"I've seen you in the alley ways," she mentioned before she left the room.

Maksim remained sitting, wondering.

_Why do I seem so familar to her? Where is this all going? I could have ended this all a long time ago. As a matter of fact, I could end it all now. _

_ No, but I can't. There's a reason why I'm here._

She came back in the room holding a mug.

"Tea?" she asked, handing him the warm drink.

He took the mug and stared into it cautiously.

"Drink it," she insited.

"I need to leave," he said, setting the mug on the floor.

"Stay," she pleaded.

"No," he mumbled as he got up and headed towards the door.

"Maksim, wait," she said. "I know who you are."

Maksim looked back at her. His eyes brightened with curiosity.

"I know, I sware I do," she said as her heavy cheeks grew a bright red. "I've seen you before. I know I have. A long, long time ago. If you would just stay maybe we can figure it out."

"You don't want to remember me," he said rather darkly.

"Of course I do," she replied. "My heart, it, stopped the first time I saw you."

Maksim reluctantly walked closer to her again.

"I rememeber a train," she said.


	3. Chapter 3

It was 1944

Sitting in the big chair was SS Arnold, a bit plump and rather content in uniform. His bright eyes remained steady underneath perfectly shaped brows. Slathered on his face was a smirk.

"I recieved your letter," Maksim said, standing before him. "I would like to assign something else."

"You'll take what I've given you," Arnold shot back.

"I'm afriad I have other plans," Maksim admitted.

"You've been putting your departures off for too long," Arnold grumbled. "You've done all you can here. They need your help at the camps now."

"Since when did they put you in charge?" Maksim asked.

"Himmler himself assigned me a higher posistion," Arnold replied.

"And whave you done all this time to deserve that?" Maksim asked.

"What would you know about me, Maksim?" Arnold snickered.

"I'd like to speak with the higher officials then," Maksim replied. "As I won't be departing to the camps."

"Why? Are you too high ranked for that sort of labor?" Arnold smirked.

"I think we all know the answer to that question," Maksim shot back as he left the room.

A man in the same uniform stopped him in the hallways.

"Did you speak with Arnold?" he asked.

"What do you want?" Maksim questioned.

"You have been offered a number of positions, of course, being exceptionally good with the wepons you can't stay here," the man said.

Maksim continued walking away from him. He left the large building and down the wide steps to the streets where people walked about rather gracefully.

He continued walking down the stone road. Much time had passed until he came to a brick wall where he stood there for a while, staring at the haunting structure, knowing he had helped make this wall some time ago when he was even younger than he was now.

Of course he couldn't help remembering how he assisted lining people up against it and shot a few.

They aren't innocent he'd try to say to himself. If I didn't kill them, they would have been the death of me.

Damn it wasn't true, he knew it, but he had to tell himself that to keep his mind clear and steady.

He had to admit to himself one way or another how he truely felt. All along he had never truly believed in such things. Even when he started to go to a school where they'd teach him the death of any jew was acceptable. Killing, was good.

The people he knew, his friends from childhood, the ones he went to school and played games with, had believed everything they were taught. He wanted to call them brainwashed. Everyone else wanted to call anyone who thought differently than them, suspicious.

I was always suspicious, he thought. To even my mother, who encouraged me to believe in the Nazi ways.

Now he suddenly he found himself on the otherside of the wall. A different set of eyes were staring at him now. Eyes not showing a high respect, but a pitiful, shameful look of pure disgust and hatred.

The stoney streets were cracked up, buildings where broken down. Bodies rotted here and there, helping the smell of death reek even more than it already did.

He noticed crows nipping at whatever fleash was left, though it was all skin and bones.

He looked through the houses, monitoring all that was going on. Some houses were empty. Some held what was left of a family, scowering in a corner.

_A part of me wanted to help them! he thought. With the way I obeyed my orders and followed society, they would never know it. They could never know how I truly felt, as good of an actor as I am. _

Yet on most days he didn't feel a thing for them at the exact same time. It was odd.

He continued to stare at the boney creatures,who all appeared so deathly and inhuman. Their souls were already far gone.

Maksim took out his gun and shot them all in the head. He wasn't sure if he did it out of orders, or to take them out of their misery.

Looking at them, no longer alive, gave him a sense of peace. They were no longer hungry, they were no longer in pain, they were no longer missing someone they had lost, and they were no longer fearing for their lives.

No, they were no longer any of those, because their lives were already taken.

He walked out of the building and into the next. He searched in each room, making sure not a soul had been there except her.

He opened the door to where he expected her.

A girl whose name was Irene, thin, but not nearly as thin as the others stood shaking, looking out the window. It was the only window around where you could oversee the city.

Maksim came towards the girl and put his steady hand on her shoulder.

"They want to deport me to the camps," he murmered.

Amongst all the prisoners, only Irene had known about the camps.

"Why do you keep returning to me?" she asked, crosing her stick-like arms.

"I ask myself the same question most days," he admitted.

"Are you trying to disguss what will happen to me?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"Though it's plain and simple, I will die," she said.

"No, war will stop this," he said. "This will all end sooner than you think. Many people have escaped and will survive. I know you can."

Her eyes, so inocent, gapped into his. She was so dehydrated she couldn't cry. She didn't want to, either. She hated him, and at the same time, loved him with all that was left of her being.

"You're a coward," she said.

"Sometimes I feel I am," he admitted. "How far would I get if I just admitted my feelings to my comrads? I wouldn't be here with you right now, don't you understand that?"

"They've always been suspicious of me, but because of who I am, how admirable I am, my high rank has just drowned all suspicion."

"If anyone had found out I saved even ten jews, I would be gone."

"You can't save me," Irena muttered.

"I can, I promise. I'm already making my plans for when I leave," he said. In his voice he sounded almost delusional.

"I can order the same train to be brought here, we can leave to the same camp, where I'll find you and you may escape into a nearby woods, where you'll be out of watchful eyes."

"You promise?" she asked, skeptically.

"I promise, Irene," he said, wrapping his warm harms around her thin body.

A vision of how she used to look when they were young flashed threw his mind. Her body was heathy, her eyes were bright. Oh, she was so beautiful. She still is, even in these conditions.

"I'll do everything I can to save you," he whispered in her ear. His words were enough to realease a tear from once of her eyes.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a candy. He handed it to her.

"This is what I have for now," he said. "I'll be back tonight with enough food and water to sustain you. If you can just hold on we might be able to escape."

"You're ridiculous," she whispered, taking the candy.

"I know," he said before he left the room.


End file.
